


The Goddess In The Tower

by bluefurcape (prettykid)



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, KakaSaku Week 2016, Rapunzel AU, Suicide mention, fairytale au prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:43:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9272306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettykid/pseuds/bluefurcape
Summary: She was the goddess in the tower and in the middle of a moonless night he had arrived to take her heart.





	

 

She was the goddess in the tower and in the middle of a moonless night he had arrived to take her heart.

A soft intake of breath in the darkness woke Sakura with a start. For most of her waking hours and nights, she existed alone, too familiar with the few sounds that came to be in this space. The brush of her feet against the woven mat floor. The distant shriek of the wind through the trees. Pages crinkling as she laid them flat against the desk. A stolen gasp through a stranger’s lips was a note that did not belong in the arrangement she was forced to live out.

She pulled the silken covers closer to herself, the heavy braid on her shoulder shifting with the movement. “Who is there?”

When no one answered her, she felt foolish for asking. An intruder would not simply announce himself. Her toes curled along with the rising tension clenching in her stomach. Before going to bed, she had left the windows of her chambers open, a habit of hers since she had begun living in the tower as a young girl. There had never been a reason to fear an intruder’s appearance. The tower pierced the sky, reaching heights far beyond the tops of the ancient trees surrounding it, and it could be seen from a distance from miles around. She had often looked to the villages that dotted the countryside, wondering what the people saw when they turned their heads towards the monstrosity of tile, wood, and plaster on the horizon.

Guards and acolytes lived in the lower floors, though the usual activity had been silenced in the night. The intruder must have slipped past all of them…or climbed the steep walls of the tower.

She considered the dagger that she kept hidden in her wardrobe among her clothing. It would do her no good now. The intruder would kill her as soon as her feet touched the floor.

But she did not know how to use a dagger against another in the first place. That was not why she had it.

“Why haven’t you screamed for help?” he asked, a low voice in the shadows. Where it was coming from was unclear as its owner moved around the perimeter of the room. She savored the sound, drinking in the smooth intonations of his spoken words.

“What do you mean?” The question took her by surprise. Out of nervous habit, she stroked the braid resting on her shoulder, tracing the interwoven pink locks that rose and fell in a complicated pattern.

“If you had called out the moment you had woken up, maybe someone would have come before I killed you.”

“Are you here to kill me?”

A pause. Then, a painfully truthful, “Yes.”

She nodded, though she wasn’t certain if he could see her. There was no light. They were two voices conversing in a blank space and for a moment, she imagined it without walls. Without floors. Without the tower.

She felt a tug on her scalp as he lifted a part of her braid that trailed off somewhere in the room. Vaguely, she had the thought that he could strangle her with her own hair, rather than using a blade. Would it hurt less to suffocate?

She heard him ask, “Is this all your hair?”

“Yes.” Her lips twisted to one corner and then she shrugged. “And no.”

“There’s enough hair here to wrap around the tower. No one could have grown this much hair in one lifetime.”

He was right. It wasn’t one lifetime. Her own locks came to her feet, never once having been cut. The natural end of her braid was woven in with the hair that had been gathered from her predecessor, or so she explained to the intruder.

“When I was born in my village far away from here, they knew who I was because of the color of my hair.” She smiled ruefully, picking at the pink strands. “It is how they find me every time I am reborn.”

The slight pressure eased as he put down the braid without a sound. “Will you be reborn if I kill you?”

“That is what they tell me.” Her rebirth was an old tale, the promise of it repeated to her so often that she did not remember when she had come to know it. Perhaps it was one of the only memories she held from a previous life.

“Is that why you’re not afraid?”

“No.” She brought her hands out from beneath the blanket, smoothing out the wrinkles in the cloth. Her eyes searched for him again. What did he look like?

Another pause. “Then why?”

He was curious. She supposed that his other victims had died naturally begging for their lives, for one more breath. They all must have had a reason to hold on. She envied them.

“I have been waiting to die for a very long time.” She moved off the futon and got to her feet, going towards the last place she had heard his voice. “A very long time,” she repeated, the words cracking slightly. “The only thing I have been afraid of was doing it myself.” Her hands reached out even though she still could not see and she touched warmed clothing over a solid chest, surprised that he had allowed her. For the first time, she felt a steady heartbeat beneath her fingertips that was not her own and she marveled at its rhythm.

Slowly, so slowly, she tilted her head up, meeting the blank gaze of a porcelain mask that hid his face. That disappointed her. She had hoped in her last moments that she could see who he was. He didn’t stop her as she moved her fingers over the cool surface of the mask, which was in such contrast to the heat from his body. Deep red stripes ran along both sides of the mask. Slashes of black, like the muzzle of an animal, were drawn in a fierce strokes over the area where his mouth would be.

“Are you good at what you do?” she mused out loud. Killing, she meant, but he would understand the question.

“Yes.” Ah. A smile curled on her lips.

“Then I only ask you do it quickly.” She leaned against him, resting her head over his chest, listening to his heartbeat. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend he was the lover she never had a chance to find. That was the life of a different woman. A different man.

He stepped back, shaking his head. “Not tonight.”

She protested, reaching out for him, but grasping…nothing. In confusion, she stared at her hands before her gaze darted to the window, catching the briefest snatch of his foot. How had he moved so quickly? She hurried to see where he had gone.

The thicket of trees that stood beyond the tower remained as it had before she had gone to sleep hours ago. Stars shimmered above them, radiant clusters of light on the inky shell of the sky.

Had he been an illusion?

#

Real or not, the next night, she decided to wait to see if he would return. She had not told anyone about him, nor did she wish to.

She was a wicked thing. The correct thing to do, surely, would be to tell the priestess of what had happened. She loathed herself for her selfishness. Yet, it wasn’t enough for her to bring it up when the priestess made her morning greetings.

Sakura drank her tea, the bitter, herbal flavor and heat numbing her tongue, nodding absently as the priestess spoke of news that the pilgrims had brought. The terrible war that seemed to be brewing on the horizon. The absolute safety of the tower.

“You have nothing to fear, my lady,” the priestess said. She was older than Sakura by many years, the signs of her age visible in the folds and wrinkles on her face. Her hair, which had been ebony in Sakura’s childhood, was streaked with bands of white and gray, kept in a coil at the base of her neck. Jeweled pins in the shape of insects glittered among the strands as if they had been caught in a spider’s web.

The priestess reached out and placed her hand heavily on top of Sakura’s. The sudden sensation of cold skin and rough callouses almost made Sakura flinch, but she had learned long ago not to show any kind of reaction. That was what the priestess was waiting to see.

The priestess was the only one bold enough to touch her like this. The guards maintained their distances at their posts. The acolytes performed their duties and retreated without meeting the goddess’s eyes. A smug smile pressed the priestess’s thin lips like a knife that turned to show its edge. Too sharp to be any kind of comfort.

“Thank you.” Sakura moved her head up, then down. She slid her hand away, pretending that she needed it to check how much tea was left in the pot.

After the priestess left, Sakura did as she did everyday: she waited for the sun to set. She leaned against the windowsill, plucking absently on the strings of her shamisen, watching the clear blue sky fade to swirls of pink and lavender. Would he come tonight?

She fell asleep by the window before her question was answered. When she opened her eyes again, the moon was the thinnest curl of silver against the rest of the night, barely visible behind the veil of misty gray clouds. She shifted, stretching her stiff limbs, when she realized the point of a knife was pressed directly over her heart.

“Don’t move,” he murmured. The point dug deeper, cutting through the fabric.

“Hello,” she said at the same time. She stared down at the ribbon of light wrapping along the blade. “So you were real. You should have done this while I was asleep.”

The dagger disappeared and he retreated into the shadows, becoming nothing more than darkness.

There was no sound, no indication that he had stayed, but she whispered anyway, “Are you still there?”

A soft sigh answered her, faint enough that it could have been her imagination.

She stood and took a step. The edges of her robes trailed, hissing against the floor. “I am glad you returned.” Was she, truly? Her sanity must have slipped some time ago and she hadn’t noticed. “Will you do it tonight?”

Another sigh. Louder this time.

Sakura scowled in irritation. “I thought you said you were good at your job.” She touched the place on her robes where the dagger had sliced through the brocaded fabric. The new slit was barely enough to slip her fingertip through. There were at least two layers of clothing that he had failed to cut.

When he did not answer her, she made her way through the darkness, taking a little satisfaction when she heard him leap back in surprise. She was only going to her wardrobe. No need to be alarmed.

“What are you doing?” he sputtered as she began to slip her robes off of her shoulders.

She stopped. The top half of her underclothes was partially bared, but she didn’t understand the sudden discomfort he radiated. They were only the clothes she wore beneath the outer robes. “I’m getting ready for bed,” she replied. That much was obvious. If he wasn’t going to end her life, then she was going to sleep.

“I’m still here.”

“So you are.” In her curiosity, she undid the wide sash around her waist and unceremoniously let the outer part of her robes drop around her feet.

“This isn’t proper.” Weak moonlight appeared through the window, touching on him briefly and showing him with his gaze _averted_ , his whole body turned away in emphasis of this gesture.

“No one has ever told me that before.”

“Aren’t you a goddess? Isn’t your form…sacred?”

She pursed her lips. “A mountain can be sacred, but its pilgrims do not avert their eyes from it.”

“You are not a mountain.”

“No, I am not,” she agreed carelessly. And he was not one of her pilgrims. She yawned, picking up her discarded clothing and folding them up neatly. “Are you going to just stand there all night?” He could make himself useful and end her life, for one.

She found her bedding already prepared for her and slipped beneath the covers. Her eyes were closed in feigned sleep when she heard him say, “You were alone all day.”

No one had even tried to wake her, although a servant had clearly come in and laid out her futon. She shrugged. “I’m not alone all the time.” Though it felt that way, she didn’t add. “The priestess visits me.” Though Sakura wished that she would not. She considered more carefully what he had said. “Were you watching me today?”

“Not the entire day.” He sounded defensive, which she found strange. He had intruded without permission for two nights now. “I returned to monitor the situation…and to see if you had reported me.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“But you could have.”

“I suppose. However, I thought we had an agreement, which is why I didn’t.” She turned to her side, propping her head up with her arm. “May I ask something? Last night—you were in front of me, and then you weren’t. How did that happen?”

“Secret of the trade.”

“I didn’t know assassins could do magic tricks. You could be a traveling performer if you ever decided to change your path.” The thought of him wearing colorful costumes instead of his usual somber outfit made her smile.

“It was not something as cheap as a magic trick.” He sounded irritated by that implication.

“But you made me see what was not there. I do believe they call that a magic trick.” She giggled. “Can you breathe fire as well?”

“I mean, I can, but again, it is _not_ a trick.”

“I think you and I have a very different understanding of language. You also said that you were here to kill me, but here I am, alive and well. I should think you would want it to be over with quickly. You must have a home you need to return to. A family, perhaps?”

“I don’t have a family.”

“A lover then?”

“No.”

“What do assassins do when they’re not running around and murdering?” To her, he was only a shadow with a painted white mask. However, she had heard his distinctly human agitation earlier and was now curious to know what kind of man lay beneath.

“I read.”

“Oh, I love reading.” She quickly listed off a few of her favorites. Wonderful stories that she had devoured, line by line, until she could recite the words by heart. “Do you like any of those?”

“My tastes…are not quite so refined.” He chuckled softly to himself at some private joke.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s unfit to speak of in polite company.”

She arched a brow, feeling that it was her turn to laugh this time. “In case you have forgotten, you’re here to end my life. We are the furthest apart from polite company as can be.”

“Ah.” She couldn’t tell if he was agreeing with her or not. He sat cross-legged in one of the squares of dull light coming from the windows. From this angle, she could see that his hair was as silver as the hidden moon, rising up behind that haunting mask. “That is true,” he said.

How easily he forgot, she mused, but she realized she had forgotten it too until that instant.

“So?” she pressed, pushing away that thought.

“It is,” he leaned forward, voice lowering, “fairly scandalous. The priestess who guards you would not like it.”

Her blood pulsed in a quicker beat. That got her attention. “All the better.”

“I will burn in the eight hells for this,” he grumbled. She didn’t point out that he would have anyway, given his profession. He brought out a book from within the folds of his clothes and laid it next to her.

She snatched it up, holding the cover to catch as much of the light as possible. “Love in Paradise,” she read out loud. It was too dark to read the pages properly, but she thumbed through anyway.

A heated flush crept up on her neck and spread to her cheeks. She had stopped on a detailed image of a man and woman locked in a passionate embrace, their limbs entangled impossibly, the clothes hanging off their bodies.

The assassin coughed after a long silence, during which she had remained riveted on the drawing. He ventured, “So, I’ll be taking that back.”

She spoke as if she hadn’t heard him, “I didn’t know they made books like this. May I borrow it?”

The coughing grew louder. She was slightly concerned that he might be genuinely choking until he said, “No.”

“I promise I’ll give it back to you when I’m done with it.” She continued to flip in search of more images, struggling to keep her voice steady despite the rising tide of embarrassment that threatened to engulf her whole. A man with his entire face buried between the juncture of a woman’s legs. Two women, one with her mouth attached to the other’s breast. Sakura never knew that someone could…engage with another person like this. It looked difficult. A burning thought arrived in her mind: had the assassin tried everything in this book?

“That’s not what worries me,” he finally managed, interrupting her reverie. “What if you get caught?”

“I’m excellent at keeping things hidden.” She had kept quiet about him, had she not? One word from her and there would have been guards combing the entire forest.

“That is not reassuring to me.”

“Come and get it then.” She held the book closer to herself, wondering what he would do.

“Goddess—“

“My name is Sakura.”

“…Sakura, then. Please return my book.”

She sat up, placing the book in her lap where he could clearly see it. A challenge. “I’m not stopping you from taking it.”

She swore she could feel him frowning, even with his mask between them.

“Do you want to read it with me? Shall I light the oil lamp?” She leaned on her arm and tilted her head. She turned her eyes up in consideration. “Although, I do wonder how you’re to kill me if you won’t come within a few feet of me.” She tapped the cover of the book. “I’ve decided that I would like to read this. Perhaps you could kill me tomorrow?”

There was a note of amusement in his voice. “One more night so that you can read lurid materials, then?”

“I will bear existence for that long.” She sniffed nobly. Perhaps he was laughing at her, mocking her for her naive interest and that was why he let her keep it. She decided she didn’t care why. She was happy to have her way—thrilled to have a wicked secret that was her own.

She devoted the next day to the book, finishing it before the noon bell was rung. Then she read it again. And again. She had so many questions.

Tonight, however, she did not bother trying to look for him in his return. She went to bed promptly. She hugged the book close to her chest before she fell asleep in her hopes that he would not simply take it and disappear.

Sometime later, she woke when she heard him land in a crouch on the floor. He had entered nearly silently on the other occasions. It felt that this time he had deliberately made his arrival more noticeable in order to alert her.

“Good evening. I read your book,” she said, sitting up.

He dragged a gloved hand down his mask, groaning slightly. “You did.”

“It was educational.”

“Please give it back.”

“It’s right here.” She patted it where it rested in her lap. “Come and get it.”

“Goddess—“

“Sakura.”

“ _Sakura_ ,” he said through gritted teeth. She had to admit she found some satisfaction in _finally_ hearing someone call her by her name. “I will kill you tonight. This game is over.”

She nodded. “I’m not going to argue. But,” she began to flip through the pages eagerly until she landed on the drawing she had been looking for and held it up to the moonlight, “is this a real thing that people do?”

He stared at the image of a man holding a woman upside down so that both of them would have access to each other’s genitalia. “Uh,” was his highly articulate response.

“What if he drops her?” She squinted at the page.

“Not…all of it is meant to be realistic.”

“Then why put it down at all?”

“It’s a fantasy. An escape.” Sakura gave him a questioning look at that. She tested this by showing him another impractical position that involved an inhuman level of flexibility. He chuckled and said, “Yes, even that one.”

She tilted her head. “Whose fantasy? Yours?”

He turned his gaze to the ceiling as if he were asking it for strength. She pressed her lips together, trying not to burst out into unladylike laughter. She should not have taken so much pleasure in his discomfort, but it was too much fun, especially after a day of sitting in these rooms alone. She pressed him further, “Have you tried any of these?”

“…”

Sensing she had gone too far, she was about to change the subject when he answered, “I haven’t tried most of the positions.” There was a brief pause, then he admitted, “It would be too difficult to maneuver once you actually begin the deed.”

Well, it was good to know that she wasn’t alone in thinking that. She coughed. “There was something else that I noticed. There were a lot of synonyms in reference to what I believed was the same thing. Cock, penis, dick—”

“You’re correct,” he interrupted. “They are, in fact, the same thing.”

“And is it another fantasy that it gets erect and larger in arousal?” She laughed, because that just sounded ridiculous to her.

“Oh no. That’s true.”

She nearly dropped the book. “For all men?”

“Generally.”

“The book made it seem like it had a mind of its own.” At very inconvenient times too.

“That part is somewhat exaggerated, but sometimes it can be true.”

“Please, explain. And have a seat too—I have a feeling that this is going to take a while.”

He did. And she was right. Her questions just continued to spiral into more questions. She had read many books before, but none of them quite addressed this side of life before. What also fascinated her was that it seemed to be commonplace knowledge to the assassin, yet there had never been a whisper of this in what she had been allowed to read. Even the books where romance had been introduced never hinted what would happen when the lovers found some privacy.

The sky was beginning to lighten by the time the assassin was finished explaining. At some point, she had laid back against the futon while she listened to him. She said, “I cannot believe my ignorance.”

“You could not have learned any of this while living here.” He glanced out the window. “I should complete my task before anyone wakes.” His task. Of course.

“Yes, that’s fine, but I’ve had some time to think,” she said. “If I die, I am reborn. Then I will be back in the same situation.” She smiled sadly. “So my solution is this: I’d like to employ your services in the next life.”

When he didn’t answer, she continued, “I can pay you. Many of my possessions are worth a small fortune.” The priestess had told her that they were valuable, in any case. She had a comb in mind that was set with jewels, each one large enough to fully cover her eye. She didn’t know its exact worth, but if it wasn’t enough, she could give him more.

“I don’t enjoy killing children,” he responded flatly.

“What difference would it make what age I am? Would you rather I spend another twenty years before I’m ripe enough to die again?” She cut the air with her hand in a dismissive gesture. Besides, the exact word he used was that he didn’t ‘enjoy’ killing children. Which meant that he had done it before. He could do it again, if convinced.

She stilled. He was a man who killed children. Here she was, trying to convince him to kill another one, even if it was herself. It was hard to believe that only moments ago he had been patiently been answering her questions about sex while they laughed together. How could one person contain such disparate qualities? More disturbing, _she_ had forgotten reality in her eagerness to hold a real conversation with another person. She did not even know who he was or what he had done. She shut her eyes, taking a shuddering breath. “How many children have you killed?”

“…Two.”

“Why?”

“That’s none of your concern.” His voice went cold, completely different from the easy-going demeanor he had displayed before.

“What is the harm in telling me? I will be dead soon,” she almost snapped. “That aside, if you’ve killed children before, then what difference would it make to kill another one? At least this one asked you to do it.”

“You won’t be her.”

“She might as well be.” Her fists curled at her sides. “Every lifetime is the same.” Reborn to live and die in this damned tower until the end of time.

She waited for a response of some sort, even the bite of a blade in her flesh, but she received none. Eventually, she drifted into sleep. When she woke in the morning, she was alone, no sign of his shadowy figure by the light of day. She began to doubt again if he had been there at all or if she had only been speaking to him in a dream.

#

“You look as if you did not sleep well,” the priestess observed.

Sakura held the tea cup tighter and gave her a taut smile. “I am a little tired.” That was a lie. Sakura could barely keep her eyelids from shutting. She hoped the priestess would leave soon. Sitting alone was terribly boring, but the priestess’s company seemed to drain Sakura’s already waning energy. She was weary of nodding and making polite conversation with prudent words, of carefully sipping the bitter tea so that it would not drip. Her back ached from keeping her posture perfect. Anything less than her best behavior would only lengthen the visit with unneeded (and unwanted) fussing.

The priestess shook her head. “Do you require a thicker futon? I shall see to it at once.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you worried about the talks of war? As I told you before, you have nothing to fear. This tower is safe. _I_ will always keep you safe.” The corners of the priestess’s lips deepened into sharp points. “As I have in every lifetime.”

“Every lifetime,” Sakura echoed faintly.

She didn’t remember the family she had been born into, too young when she had been separated from them. Before, she had asked the priestess endless questions about the family she would have had. If she had any siblings. If her parents had been kind people.

Then, the priestess had finally answered, “They were not truly your family—merely the vessels of your rebirth.” She had encircled her bony arms around Sakura. “If anyone is your family, it is I, little Goddess. From the beginning of time, I have protected you, loved you, given you everything. You are mine.” The priestess’s fingertips dug themselves into Sakura’s flesh, the nails biting through cloth.

The declaration, jealous and possessive, had shaken Sakura. The priestess spoke the words with such certainty, as if there could be no other outcome. They were linked in every lifetime. An eternal bond. The tower was where Sakura belonged. She had been told her place in this world. Was that not a good thing? It was the truth, yet every time it was reaffirmed, a voice of defiance rose up within her. She may have belonged here, but that was not what she wanted. Wicked. Imperfect. That was what she was for desiring the wrong thing.

Yet, coming to this place had not been her choice. Fate and the universe had decided that for her.

She would be the one to make the choice to leave.

#

As night fell, Sakura kept the small oil lamp lit while she waited. She watched him darken the window for a moment before sliding down.

“I believe you should do it tonight,” she said. She brought out the dagger she had kept hidden among her clothes. “Or show me how to do it properly. I don’t want to linger for hours like a wounded animal.”

“You had that in your possession this whole time?”

She laughed slightly. “I told you, I was too afraid to do it myself.” Her fingers trembled as she took the blade out of its sheath. He knelt in front of her. “Well?” she challenged.

She set her jaw, readying a sharp retort in case he argued, but instead he placed his fingertips over her stomach with a gentle pressure. He began to explain, “Cutting here will cause acid to leak out to the rest of your organs. The last fifteen minutes of your life would be painful.” He touched her heart. “You can live six minutes without a heartbeat.”

Ah, so he was finally going to cooperate.

“It seems easiest to cut my throat.” She helpfully traced a line along the soft flesh of her neck.

His mask rose slightly, indicating that his gaze had shifted. “…Two minutes. Maybe one, if the cut is deep enough.” His gloved hand moved swiftly, seizing the back of her neck, tilting her head back. The porcelain of the mask nearly kissed her lips. “It would be nearly instant if the blade severed this area.”

“I-I don’t think I could reach there to do it properly.”

“And your blade is dull. It wouldn’t be an easy slice.”

“That is why I asked you to do it.” She flared. “You’re a coward. Do what you were paid to do.”

“Sakura…” He sighed, looking to the floor. It still thrilled her to hear him say her name. “Is dying your only choice?”

His question was filled with pity. He obviously thought her a wretched creature. Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. “Where could I go?” She belonged here. Always here. She could be born hundreds of miles away, but they would bring her back.

“Anywhere. The world is a large place.”

And then what? “I would be alone. I would be alone as I am here. There is no one in this world that would truly care if I was alive or dead—once I am gone, they will simply find another me. It does not matter.”

“People would mourn you,” he said quietly, sitting back.

“Only until I am reborn. Then they would have their goddess again.” A new goddess to love and admire, one that wouldn’t be as broken as her. She smiled. “But I am never born with the memories of my previous lives. There is that small blessing. Who I am at this moment would truly die.”

“And…you’re not afraid?”

“You’ve asked me that before. I am not.” She defiantly wiped away her tears with her sleeve, leaving the skin around her eyes feeling raw. She was not afraid. She was not afraid. She--

He molded his hand around his mask, lifting it off. A cloth mask still covered half of the face beneath. A scar ran through one eye, a milky blue rather than the gray color of its counterpart. He held her gaze, stealing her air out of her lungs. “I don’t believe you.”

“Does that matter?” she asked after regaining her senses. Someone had paid him or ordered him to kill her. He was no different than a tool. A means to an end.

He leaned closer. Closer. She could feel the puff of his breath through the cloth. Her heart started pounding in anticipation, though of what, she didn’t know. Of her death? Of a kiss?

“I suppose it doesn’t.” He brushed back a strand of her hair, then stopped himself, as if he had done it without thinking. “But I cannot be the one to fulfill your wish. I’m sorry.”

“Why?” the demand tore out her throat in a choked sob. She fell against him, her tears soaking through his shirt. “Why, why, why?”

He was a killer. He was being _paid_ to do this job. She hated him. She needed him.

She felt him stroke the back of her head, but he didn’t answer her question. She had not allowed herself to cry like this since she was a child. What use were tears? They couldn’t change anything. She couldn’t change anything.

“My opinion really doesn’t matter, but I would be sad to see you go. I would mourn you,” she heard him say, renewing her weeping.

She didn’t know how long she cried, but her limbs felt weak by the time she was done. At some point, he had laid them both on onto their sides atop the futon, curling himself around her, holding her as she hiccuped softly. It was her first time being held like this. He was warm and solid. She wondered if it was the normal to feel so…safe.

Although she only meant to close her eyes for a moment, the next thing she knew, she had fallen asleep. When she woke, it was nearly dawn and he was trying to move away from her without waking her. She sat up and said, “Wait.” She fidgeted, looking around at nothing in particular.

In the end, he was not going to complete his task and kill her. There was no reason for him to return. Her fear was that if he went this time, it would be the last she ever saw of him. She wanted him to stay with her, but that would be impossible. She belonged here, he did not. Her attention fell on his book sitting on the blanket. She held it out to him. “You’re forgetting this.” It was the only thing she could think of to say.

“Thank you.” He took it from her, smoothing a gloved hand over the worn cover.

“Th-the ending made it seem like there was another book after this one.”

“It’s a series.”

“How many are there?”

“Fifteen.” His eyes creased into a smile above the mask. She liked being able to see that. “With another one coming out next year, I believe.”

“…I would like to be able to read it.” She folded her empty hands in her lap.

“Then you should read the other ones before that. It will take you a while.” He climbed onto the windowsill, replacing the porcelain mask onto his face. “Perhaps I can lend them to you next time.”

_Next time._

She grinned. “Thank you.”

#

She faithfully read through the books that he brought her a week later. He apologized, saying that he had to return to his village for some time and that he didn’t know when he could come back.

“I guess I’ll have to finish these slowly.” She took the one at the top of the stack and thumbed through the pages. “You promise you will return?”

“Well, I have to come back for my books.”

“I will take good care of them, then.” She didn’t ask him what would happen now that he had decided not to take her life. Were they friends? All that she knew was that she looked forward to seeing him again.

She read. She slept. She took it day by day, hour by hour.

#

 

The books made her blush.

Well, blush…was perhaps not a strong enough term. They made her feel as if flames licked at her skin, singeing her, yet leaving her shivering in delight, giggling to herself as she kicked her feet into the air. What appealed to her most about these books was that they could make her feel anything at all. It amazed her how words strung together and organized on a page could capture her interest and hold it for hours at a time.

She would also admit that some of the scenes left her wondering. Sometimes, it was because the reactions seemed far too extreme. The characters would have such violent feelings to what was supposed to be a pleasurable experience. Orgasms ripping through bodies and what not. (On their last meeting, the assassin had explained to her what an orgasm was—very awkwardly.) Other times, it was because she tried to think of a world where anyone would want her so badly. To look at her and feel…how had one of the books put it? _Desire coursing._ _Heart aching. Toe-curling happiness._

The intense descriptions of bodies also had her considering her own in a way that she had never had before. After reading a particularly passionate section, she laid back on the floor, her blood thrumming, her breath picking up as she repeated the descriptions back to herself.

_Kiyoko gasped as Toru took hold of her breast._

She ran her hands over the fabric covering her chest, moving down to undo the knots holding her robes together. The obi slid away as she recounted more from the book.

 _He traced the curves of her body with his lips, smiling against her skin when she sighed and whimpered_.

She continued to touch herself. What would it be like to be caressed by a lover? To have them dip their fingers as she was now between her legs, a place that she had not yet explored? She moved over the hood of her clitoris and felt the first delicious stirrings of pleasure, but it was little more than a whisper. Nothing like the waves and lightning strikes as had been described. Experimentally, she did it again, wriggling on her futon, her hips moving of their own volition. Harder. Yes. Oh, sky above, _yes_.

Toru had also put his fingers inside of Kiyoko. Sakura found her entrance, dripping wet. Ah, so she was like other women in that respect. She carefully inserted a digit and winced. The books made it seem like the first time could hurt, but eventually, the women would come to enjoy it. Perhaps she was just too inexperienced.

The assassin would know how to do this.

Oh. That made her blush again. She glanced at the windows, open to the night air as usual. A breeze grazed over her exposed skin. She felt vulnerable in her nakedness, but there was also a thrilling undercurrent to everything in this moment.

Her imagination began to supply her with devious scenarios now that she thought of him. Him kissing the place between her breasts, her hands in that thick silver hair as she had wanted to for some time now. Him telling her how much he wanted her. In her fantasy, they would make love far away from this tower, knowing that in the morning they could still be together. She started to pant as she picked up her rhythm, grinding her palm into her clit. The moan slipped past her lips—she couldn’t help it. And then he would…

There was a thump, followed by a hushed curse outside the windows. She stopped. The haze of her arousal continued to shroud her, but she had enough sense to snatch her robes from the floor and yank it back on.

“Assassin?” she ventured.

A familiar sigh answered her. Despite her embarrassment, she smiled. His head appeared over the edge of the window, the porcelain mask already missing. “Hello,” he said dully.

“How much did you see?” She was not ashamed of her body, but the knowledge that she had just been thinking about…well, him and the lewd acts she wanted him to perform…

“I didn’t mean to spy on you.” He rubbed the back of his neck, pulling himself up and sitting on the windowsill, his shoulders hunched. She saw now where the porcelain mask had gone, curiously positioned over his lap. “I meant to say something earlier. I promise.”

Had it been anyone else—an acolyte or a guard, she might have been angry or humiliated. But this was the same man who had been patiently answering her questions, no matter how silly it may have seemed. She found that she didn’t mind that he had witnessed such an intimate moment.

He continued, “So, I truly apologize. I have more books here for you and here they are. I will be on my wa—”

“Wait.” She stood up, clutching her robes closed. There hadn’t been enough time to knot them properly. “It’s all right. Please, stay.”

He had told her before that it was at least a week’s journey back to his home. He must be weary from the travel, yet he had made the trip anyway.

He sank slowly down from the window to the floor right below, seeming content to remain across the room. If he was not going to come any closer then she would go to him.

“It would be best if you remained where you are,” he said, holding up his hand to stop her.

“Why?” She tilted her head.

“My body odor is terrible. I can’t take many baths while I travel.”

“I haven’t noticed anything before.” She took another step. He kept his mask over his lap still. Truly, what was he trying to hide?

“ _Your_ body odor is terrible.”

“I apologize?” She loosened her grip over her robes, trying to sniff herself. “If you could endure it for just a little while? I did miss you terribly.”

“You did?” He sat up straighter.

“Yes.” He seemed pleased by that. She smiled. “I meant to ask you, were your superiors angry that you didn’t complete your mission?”

He lifted a shoulder in a deliberately careless gesture. “No more than usual.”

She excused herself for a moment, turning around and hastily tying her robes closed. Without the obi, the collar gapped open with her movements, but it would do. She sat down next to him, leaning against the wall beneath the window. “Did I look like a fool?”

“Hm?”

“I’ve never tried to pleasure myself before—”

He started coughing violently. When she angled herself towards him in concern, she noticed his eyes straying to her breasts before he wrenched his attention away.

A red flush bloomed above the line of his cloth mask as he adorably stammered his response. She blinked, not really listening. Instead, she moved closer, transfixed by him, by how he appeared to her in the moonlight; he was neither friend nor foe, not an assassin her to end her life—but a man who gave her happiness and who she wanted to return that happiness in return.

She placed his hand over her heart and kissed him.

Her lips brushed over cloth, but felt the shape of his mouth beneath, still frozen in forming the sound that had been silenced. Their bodies were delicately balanced against each other, asymmetrical perfection painting soft shadows against the walls like brush strokes upon a page. Together they formed a word in a language that she didn’t yet understand. The first in a story she wanted to live more than anything in the world.

His eyes were still closed as she hooked her fingers around the edge of his mask and drew it down. She traced the lines of his face, familiar and new. “What is your name?” she asked.

“It’s Kakashi,” he responded as if in a trance.

A name. His name. She practiced calling him that in her mind until it came to her naturally. No longer simply ‘assassin,’ but then again, he had not been that for a while now. “Kiss me again, Kakashi.”

“I shouldn’t.” He hid his face in her shoulder, taking a deep breath.

She straddled him, her hips flush against his, exactly where she could feel the press of his erection. “I want this, you want this—so kiss me,” she demanded, nuzzling his throat. When he obliged her, her whispered urgings multiplied. _Take your gloves off. Touch me there. I want to feel you too._

She knew she was being greedy, but if she was going to steal this moment, then she was going to savor every last second. Soon, they were both on the futon with nothing between them. It had been easier for her—just a few badly tied knots to undo before she was bare before him. He, on the other hand, was not limited to clothing, laying down weapon after weapon on the floor, so many that she stared at them in astonishment.

“How are you able to move at all?” she asked. The weight of all of that metal could not have been insubstantial, yet there had never been even a hint of what he carried so close to himself. He always walked with a kind of fluid grace, slipping in and out of shadows.

“Practice?” He chuckled.

She would have asked more, but her attention was drawn to his nether region. “Um…so that’s your…”

“My cock.”

“Yes.” It was not as enormous as she had come to expect from the drawings, but perhaps that was a good thing, since she could barely fit a finger inside herself. She blushed, looking away when she realized she had been staring. Her boldness from before was beginning to falter.

He noticed her nerves and kissed her, coaxing her onto her back. “Show me what you want me to do.” He took her hand, placing it over his as he cupped her cunt. His voice was a low, pleasurable sound in her ear. “Tell me what you were thinking about earlier.”

It was almost too much to feel his palm against her clit. She pressed his hand down, remembering the rhythm that she had learned. “I was thinking of you. Moving above me.”

“Was I inside you?”

“Y-yes.” She whimpered softly, her hips rolling up. “Do you want me?”

“More than anything. Fuck.” He panted.

“Did you ever think of me?”

“Too often. You plagued my waking hours and my dreams. I wanted you exactly like this. Kissing you, then kissing your beautiful cunt and have you moaning my name.” She felt the quirk of his lips against the column of her throat. “I’m going to put my fingers in. Is that all right?”

She nodded and opened her legs as he told her to try to relax. He raised his hand to his mouth, sucking his digits until they were wet before he slowly inserted one into her entrance. He cursed when she tensed, saying, “I’m sorry. This is your first time.”

The pain was slightly less than when she had attempted it, at least, and when he kneaded his palm against her, she enjoyed it that much more. He let her guide him, giving up almost full control to her.

The pleasure she felt reached a peak and she laughed as it took hold of her body. Her back arched, the sweet pressure breaking in waves in her stomach and spreading until she forgot who she was, her free hand clenching the blanket beneath her tightly. When she managed to regain a few of her senses, she met Kakashi’s eyes and her mouth went dry. Lust darkened his gaze that pierced through her. She saw his hunger there, scaring her and thrilling her all at once. Her awareness of the hard press of his cock against her thigh became far too keen.

“We don’t have to do this,” he murmured.

She wrapped her arms around his middle and shifted so that her hips completely cradled his. “Do it.”

He positioned himself before pushing in slowly. She dug her fingers into the muscles of his back, certain that she was leaving marks on his skin. A whimper passed through her lips, but when he paused, she told him not to stop until he was fully inside.

Yes, it hurt, despite how much care he took to be gentle with her, but there was still nothing she would change. She smiled as he repeated his apologies, pulling him down for a kiss.

“It’s all right,” she said.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

She arched a brow. “You were going to kill me.” There was no trace of accusation. The circumstances of their initial meeting were strange, but it was how their paths had crossed.

“I never could have done it.” He dropped his head as he confessed. “Not in this lifetime or the next.”

“Disappointing, but I think I shall manage.” She sighed.

“I wanted to steal you away that very first night.”

The first night? She blushed.

“Would you want to come with me?” he asked.

Run away from the tower. Leave all of this behind. “Where would we go?”

“Anywhere you desire.”

“Even your village?”

“If that’s what you want.” He winded their fingers together, a smile on his face.

“Will you show me more magic tricks?”

“I keep telling you that I don’t do magic tricks.”

She ignored him and declared, “Oh, I want to try dango too.”

“…as you wish?” He chuckled, his brows tilting up.

The thought of leaving the tower and entering the unknown still struck chords of fear in her, but he had given her a glimpse of life as it could be and for that chance she thought she could be brave. Had she not decided that the choice to leave would be hers? For so long, she had thought that choice would be death, but now she wanted more. At least this one lifetime, she could have as her own. As he started to move above her and their bodies slid against each other, she traced the scars on his body with her eyes and promised herself that she would try to learn each one, claim him as her own and give herself to him in return. They could find her again when she was re-born, but this life would be hers.

And she chose him.

#

News came that the guards had found an assassin in the woods. Sakura gripped her hands together, rooted to the spot as the priestess told her of what had happened.

“If anything, this shows you that you have nothing to fear. The assassin was cut down before he could get anywhere near the tower,” the priestess said smugly.

“Th-thank the guards for me.” Sakura felt like the contents of her stomach were turning.

“They will be pleased to hear that from you…” The priestess’s eyes narrowed, lingering over the skin above Sakura’s collar.

In alarm, Sakura hastily lied before the priestess could even ask, “It’s a rash. I’ve applied a salve to it already.”

“Perhaps it is the soap you use for your baths.”

“Yes, that must be it,” Sakura agreed eagerly.

“I will…tell the acolytes to make a change…” The priestess curled one bony finger around a strand of Sakura’s hair. “I hope you will tell me more quickly if something troubles you in the future. There should be no secrets between us.”

After the priestess left, Sakura collapsed against the wall, unable to remember how to breathe. No. _No_. He couldn’t be dead. Was this her punishment for trying to fight her fate?

She could not be torn away from the window for the rest of the day as she scanned the forest beyond again and again. The skin around the nail of her thumb was picked raw by the time night fell.

“Hello,” Kakashi greeted, his head appearing over the edge of the eaves, startling her.

“Get down here,” she hissed. When he was close enough to reach, she practically dragged him inside and they tumbled back into the room, landing in an ungainly heap on the floor. She buried her face in his chest, not caring that her arm was folded awkwardly between them. “I was so worried.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Why were you worried?”

“The priestess told me that the guards had found an assassin and they killed him. I thought—” She shut her eyes, “—that it was you.”

“You should have a little more faith in me.” He adjusted them both so that they were positioned more comfortably, though they were still curled up together on the floor. “But I think we should leave tomorrow evening.”

“So soon?” The original plan had been to go at the end of the week while he gathered some provisions and found her a suitable disguise. Her pink hair was a little too noticeable to be seen in public.

“I should have anticipated this, but the people who initially wanted your heart have turned to others to do the job. That’s likely who this assassin was working for.”

She pressed her hand against her chest. “Why do they want it?”

“An idiotic rumor—it’s said that the one who holds your heart will be granted immortality.” He shook his head.

The revelation made her feel nauseous again, but she managed a shaky smile. “Well, I’ll be glad to leave sooner rather than later.” Though she did not know if she would be that much better off from those that would want her dead inside the tower or outside of it.

Night passed too quickly for her taste as it often did as of late. She wished that she could enjoy his company a little longer, but the sun rose again and she had to let him go.

After gathering up a few things that could be pawned off during their journey, she decided to rest as much as she could so that she would be more awake later on. A heavy thump against the floor jolted her awake. She stared at the books scattered before her, not recognizing them for a moment before realizing what they were. Before she could say a word, the priestess seized Sakura’s hair, cruelly jerking it back.

“Who gave you these?” the priestess hissed. Her eyes were bloodshot and wide.

“N-no one.”

“Little Goddess, do not lie to me.” The priestess’s grip grew tighter. The nostrils of her long nose flared. “Is this how you repay me? After all that I have done for you?”

“It hurts—please, let go!”

The priestess paid no heed in her rage. “You are nothing without me. There is no one in this world who knows you as I do!” Spittle flew from her lips.

She threw Sakura to the floor and began to tear the rest of the room apart. In due time, she discovered the bundle that Sakura had prepared. Howling, she threw one of the jeweled combs against the wall. Sakura flinched.

“Did you think that you could leave me?” The priestess seized Sakura by the shoulders, shaking her. “After all that I have done? You are mine!”

“Enough!” Sakura shoved the priestess away. They glared at each other, both breathing hard. “I am _not_ yours.”

The priestess had claimed that they had belonged together, in every lifetime. A bond thousands of years old. Perhaps Sakura was wrong for wanting any differently, but the problem was that she _did_. That would never change. No matter how many years passed, even if she remained in this tower.

“You’ve been ruined,” the priestess said flatly. A sudden calm overcame her, as if a raging storm had abruptly ceased, but Sakura remained wary. There was still a hard, angry glint in the priestess’s eyes as she approached. She raised a hand to her hair, removing a long pin. The end of it was pointed and sharp.

“Look what you have made me do, little Goddess.” The priestess’s voice was low and mournful.

Sakura backed away, but there was no where to run.

The needle bit through Sakura’s flesh and she screamed before her vision went dark.

#

 

The first thing Sakura saw was the night sky through the wooden bars of a cage. The hazy shriek of crickets and cicadas filled her sensitive ears. She shifted, still groggy, and she heard a deep, groaning creak above her. The cramped space she was in tilted, to her horror, and by instinct her arms flew out to brace herself. There was nothing beneath her except a straight drop to the ground.

She shouted for help. Someone. Anyone. Her heart jumped in her chest at the slightest movement of the cage. The painful tension in her muscles made her tremble. She let her head drop against one of the bars, trying to control her breathing. Her braid tugged her back, looped through the cage and knotted there, acting as a leash. How long had she been unconscious? She desperately hoped it was not more than a few hours. The last time she had spoken to him, Kakashi had said that they would leave the next evening. What if he had come and not been able to find her? Or worse, he had been caught like the other assassin and killed?

Sakura had never believed the priestess capable of doing something like this.

 _You’ve been ruined_.

The words echoed back to her from a foggy memory. She clenched her fists, anger pulsing through her, her mind suddenly clear. Ruined? Ruined implied that she had not been flawed before. The priestess had never truly known Sakura, never known that Sakura had always wanted things that she should not have wanted.

But why did she question what she wanted?

“Sakura, are you all right? Are you hurt?” she heard Kakashi whisper, breaking her out of her thoughts. She shut her eyes in relief, replying that she was unharmed, reaching up to touch his hand. He squeezed her fingers gently and said, “Hold on. I’ll get you out of there.”

“Hurry.”

Metal tools scraped inside the lock as he moved to free her. A few minutes later, the front of the cage yawned open. She inched forward to the edge, but again the length of her braid went taut.

“You have to cut my hair,” she said. It was inevitable, even if they had not been in this situation. She could not carry the weight of a thousand years worth of hair with her.

A quick hiss of a blade and her pink locks fell around her shoulders, now barely long enough to reach the middle of her back. She picked up the ends in amazement. Just like that, she was free of her braid. Even though she had been the one to tell him to do it, it still caught her unaware because she had thought it would take some time to saw through the strands. She had not known how sharp a blade could be.

Sakura crawled on all fours to the opening before reaching for his hand. His grip was firm on her, but for one dizzying moment she had looked down at the courtyard below. From this height, the torches lit by the guards were like pinpricks against a dark cloth. She squeezed her eyes shut against the sight. Hold on. Do not slip. Do not imagine the rush of air during the fall. This was not where she would die.

Once she was on the tiles of the roof, Sakura threw her aching arms around Kakashi. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Don’t thank me just yet. We still need to climb down.” He stroked her back before letting her go. “Are you ready?”

“I don’t know if it will work anymore. The priestess knows I was trying to escape.” The plan had been to dress Sakura as an acolyte so that she could slip through the tower unnoticed, but now a guard could have been instructed to stop anyone who passed, just in case.

“Yes, which is why we’re going down the side.”

“Are you mad? I could barely hold on when you were helping me up.”

“Sakura, will you trust me?”

She looked back at him. She nodded.

His eyes creased into a smile then he straightened, getting to his feet. “I’ll secure you with the ropes in case your strength—”

An arrow blurred past Sakura’s head. She felt it displace a few strands of hair and the next thing she knew, it was embedded in Kakashi’s shoulder with a dull thud. He grunted in pain. Another arrow was released, finding its mark squarely in his throat.

She screamed as he staggered backwards. He was too close to the edge. His hand reached for her, the fabric of his gloves brushing the very tips of her fingers. The last thing she saw was his stunned expression before he fell.

She scrambled towards the edge, but was yanked back by her hair.

The priestess clicked her tongue in disapproval right next to Sakura’s ear. “Be careful. You will slip.” The bow she had used to murder Kakashi clattered onto the tiles.

Sakura choked back a sob as she clawed to free herself. The body. She had to see the body.

“I’m sorry you had to witness that, but it’s all over now. There will be nothing between us now.” The priestess began to drag Sakura up the slope. “I have done my duty. Now, you must understand your place.”

Sakura wrenched herself free,throwing herself back in the process. Her bare feet slipped on the tiles. She panted. The wind picked up the ends of her newly cut locks in a wild cloud around her head.

“If you don’t come back here, you will fall. Do you want to end up like him?” The priestess jabbed a finger at the spot where Kakashi had dropped.

Sakura glanced over her shoulder. The pinpricks of torchlight still danced below in the courtyard. She turned back.

The priestess’s shoulders relaxed. She stepped forward with her arms open. The wide smile on her face was meant to be welcoming, but it showed too many teeth to be a comfort. Sweat gleamed like oil on her brow. “You are not a fool. That is not how I raised you.”

“No. It is not.” The hairs on the back of Sakura’s neck rose. She took another step backwards. Her heel kissed the edge. Beyond it there was only air.

“You will not do it. I _know_ you. There is no one else who knows you like I do—not even that foolish man. I have dedicated all of my lifetimes to you!”

The priestess was right, Kakashi was a fool. He had thought they could fight fate. Now, he was gone. A bitter laugh welled up out of Sakura’s throat.

The priestess almost shrieked, “Your acts are futile. If you die here, I will find you again. It will always be the same.”

Sakura closed her eyes. Was each lifetime truly the same?

No, she had never accepted that.

She heard the priestess howl, but the sound came to her as if from far away. Air whipped past her in a low and constant scream. She turned her gaze to the glittering stars above. She fell past level after level of the tower, her robes fluttering in the wind like broken wings.

Impending death aside, it was satisfying to prove the priestess wrong in her final act. Sakura hoped in her next life, she would remember this. Fight, she urged herself, fight until the bitter end and be the one to make the choice.

And maybe, just maybe, she could find him again.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her middle, snatching her from her free fall. Kakashi ran down the wall, one arm hooked under her knees, the other one supporting her back.

She dared to open her eyes, not believing what she saw.

“Did I die already?” she asked. At least there had been no pain. She clung to the front of his shirt, both hands fisted in the cloth. He felt solid beneath her.

But this had to be the afterlife. He was defying logic and running down the side of the tower as easily as if it had been flat ground.

He replied, “Still alive. I apologize for the scare.”

“How is this possible?”

“Didn’t you say that you would trust me?”

“Another magic trick?” She gave him a shaky smile, not quite accepting yet. If it had been a trick, it was much better than the first one he had shown her. She just hoped never to see it ever again. Watching him die once was enough.

He sighed in response, then muttered under his breath about ‘genjutsus.’ What, in the name of the heavens and the earth, was a genjutsu? She would have to ask later.

She realized now that the plan to climb down with ropes had been a false plan, since he clearly didn’t need it, most likely to mislead the priestess in the event that she had been listening.

Outside the walls of the courtyard, they kept running deeper and deeper into the forest. A horse waited for them in a cave, which she was grateful for, since she didn’t think she could push her body any further. The exertion made her lungs burn. This was actually the first time that she had used her legs like this in more than a decade.

They only stopped when dawn arrived, coming to rest in a field, the tower behind them barely taller than her smallest finger. He helped her off the horse, but in her exuberance, she tumbled them both into the grass. She covered his face in kisses, laughing breathlessly in between.

“Where are we?” she asked, reaching up for his cloth mask and tugging it down. Not knowing her own location was a novel experience after having lived in one spot for all her life. The thought of the journey ahead made her feel giddy.

“Another week’s travel back to my village, if we don’t stop to rest too often.” He grinned at her, but his expression dimmed slightly. “Unless there is somewhere else that you would like to go?”

She hummed, pretending to think. “Well, I might decide that later. I would still like to go there for now.” She could decide to stay there forever, if she liked. She nuzzled his nose.

“Then that is where we shall go.”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for KakaSaku Week 2016. Kinda still hate it, but here we are.
> 
> ty to my bud maus who has been so kind to me by cheering me on.


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